


Ego Vereor

by flinchflower



Series: Slash Me Twice [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Collars, M/M, Paddling, Safewords, Spanking, Visions, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-16
Updated: 2011-10-16
Packaged: 2017-10-24 16:00:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 6: Solid. Sam's visions mean that Dean has to take control.  Mention of John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ego Vereor

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not for profit, simply a writing exercise. Herein lies Dean/Sam slash, in an AU timeline where John did not lose his life. John appears in parental context only.

Dean watches Sam carefully when the visions come. Sam doesn’t realize how much of the pain and fear that his brother can see in his face in those harsh moments, doesn’t have the capacity to realize it, and the migraines blind him from more than clear vision afterwards. The episodes scare John more than just a little, and it’s become an unwritten Winchester law that Dean is the one who copes with them, keeps Sam from hurting himself while they’re happening. He copes with the aftermath too, for the most part, though often John sits down to talk with his baby boy when Dean’s got him settled. The fatherly calm, the matter of fact person that John is, it fixes the rest of what the visions break in Sam, the part that Dean can never manage to soothe to his own exacting satisfaction.

Not that Dean doesn’t try. He thinks, when he sees Sam on his knees, reaching out blindly for comfort, thinks about how ephemeral the visions are. Sam’s left swimming in a sea of disconnected reality after them, the world seems to be more fluid, more liquid for the boy afterwards. He can see it in the way Sam’s eyes dart around, and can’t seem to fix on anything, not even Dean’s face – and both boys are trained to fix their eyes on someone’s face at a command from one another or their father. John made sure of that, the first time Dean was injured on a hunt, and wouldn’t look at him. Dean can tell that Sam’s trying though, so he doesn’t scold, and as he bites his tongue away from the scolding (after all, this is Sam, scoldings roll off both John’s and Dean’s tongues like water, for all the good they do), and he wonders, though he’ll never ask, just what it is that Sam can see at those moments.

Dean will never know just how close his thoughts are to the truth. Sam’s visions seem to drop him into a deep sea, water all around him, and he always, always has panicked moments where he thinks he’s drowning, or maybe even dying. Dean’s strong arms around him, strong hands gripping Sam’s shaking shoulders and holding him upright, the reminders to breathe. Collapsing into Dean’s embrace is like a being a battered ship, limping into dock after a hurricane has ravished it’s sails. Always, Dean has a kiss for him, and it’s usually the fact that Sam knows his brother’s distaste for girly moments that helps bring him back the rest of the way. After that kiss grounds him, he usually lets himself slump against Dean, a silent signal that he’s not going to be able to stand up on his own.

It’s hard sometimes, when Dean isn’t there, and a vision sweeps through him. His father is just as earthy and solid, but somehow, Sam needs Dean to reconnect to reality afterwards. John’s frequently a part of the routine that settles him down, away from the vision, but his father doesn’t have the ability to dismiss the feeling of drowning the way Dean does, and this latest vision happened while Dean was out, showed a poltergeist strangling a young girl, showed him his father firing at the spirit.

Sam tries not to sulk after the visions, really he does. It’s just that they’re always so dire, so urgent, and it often takes a lot of time to figure out the who, what, when and where of the things. How is never a problem – Sam always has that detail in painful excess. And it’s even more frustrating for him when a vision only has Dean or John present, and he knows that he needs to stay behind. This last vision sent John out on a solo hunt, and Sam has been moody for four days now.

He comes out of his morning shower to find the pile of his clothing gone, the towels gone, and he bellows his brother’s name, just before he sees the perfect circle of his collar, stark black against the white laminate counter. Dean’s there in a moment with the towels, and Sam’s staring transfixed at the collar, some idea of what’s in store for him. He’s careful not to bat Dean’s hands away, as the older boy towels him dry, but he protests.

“Dean, I don’t want-“

“We talked about this yesterday, Sam. I told you what I was gonna do if you didn’t cut the brooding out. Dad is fine. This is a simple hunt, you know that. Now put the damn collar on.”

“Dean…” He knows he’s whining, but he can’t seem to help it.

“I’m not gonna ask again, Sam. You made your choice already.”

“But-“

Dean snarls at him, yanks the collar off of the counter as he bodily hauls Sam from the room. Sam is reluctant to resist, Dean’s right about one thing – his big brother gave him an ultimatum to drop it yesterday or suffer the consequences, and he’d simply snarled in return and forgotten about the threat, floating off into the remembered horrors of the vision again. Sam sighed, wondering where his self control had fluttered off to this time – maybe bobbing somewhere on the ocean of upset the visions brought, perhaps. Dean’s grip on his arm tightened irritably, and the younger boy knew that even the sigh was a mistake. He didn’t fight when Dean put him on his knees.

Dean sits in front of him, buckles the collar onto Sam. “You don’t speak, you obey, or I punish you. You freak out, I expect to hear your safeword. Say it now.”

“Vereor.” _Fear. I fear._

There’s no reply, just a shift in movement, and Sam’s bent over the end of the bed. Long minutes later he hears the crack of a wooden paddle on his behind, seconds before he feels the heavy burn. Dean is more pissed than he thought, they don’t use the paddle very often – both of them prefer the leather straps if Sam’s deserving of more than a hand-spanking. The solid wood connects with his backside over and over again, and Sam somehow feels the swimming feeling that’s been present with him since the vision leave him, exorcised by the harsh blows of the solid paddle. He gasps in a breath of air, feels the tears trickling down his face, doesn’t realize when the paddling ceases until Dean is muscling him up onto the bed.

There’s no sex, just the strong hands stroking his back, his hair, his face. After his breathing evens out, he puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder, reaches out, and feels Dean’s arms around him, tight and real. Sam draws a breath in, deep and relieved, and relaxation creeps along his muscles and tight limbs, until he’s lying boneless in Dean’s arms. His big brother is his anchor to reality, the warmth of him bleeds a comfort Sam didn’t realize he was seeking into his body. Just before he drifts off to sleep, his hand closes tighter on Dean’s shoulder. He’s real, he’s present and comforting, a permanent reassurance that no matter what Sam sees, he’s still human, still loved, and present in the world. Dean is his rock, his oak, his strength, and if there’s anything Sam needs in the world, it’s someone like Dean – someone solid.

**Author's Note:**

> Music: Winger - Miles Away


End file.
